Five Minutes
by Abvj
Summary: She made him weak, but he was too desperate to do anything about it. Chlex, pure angsty, dramatic, somewhat romantic Chlex.


_**Disclaimer**: Smallville and all related elements © Tollin-Robbins Productions and Warner Bros. Television, All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction, no infringement is intended, no profit is being made._

**A/N: **I have just been getting a little perturbed at the fact that certain _people_ just seem to push aside the pure amazing-ness that is Chlex. Enjoy, read and review, but most importantly just enjoy!

* * *

It was perfect. The day, the time, the dress, the tuxes, the bride, it was all perfect. Sickeningly so. Too much so she thinks.

They really did paint a picture of the perfect couple. The devilishly handsome business tycoon, the quick witted reporter. She was steadfast when he tended to be weak. She ruled and influenced the world with her words, he bought them with his money.

Everyone was waiting. Hundreds upon hundreds of people, waiting for her, waiting in the perfectly decorated cathedral, waiting for the perfect bride to walk towards the perfect groom. The thought made her uneasy, nauseous. They were waiting for _her_, waiting with bated breath for the nuptials to be complete, joining official; it all to be sealed with a kiss.

Her heart, her ever so traitorous heart, constricted, a deep breath escaping her perfectly glossed lips.

"It's all very natural sweetie," Emma tells her, fussing with the bride's blonde hair, placing the tiara in the perfect position. The perfect tiara in the perfect position for the perfect bride. The hiss comes automatically at the thought, echoing throughout the room as she glared in the mirror towards her friend, wanting to shout, to scream. "Everyone has doubts."

It's a reassuring smile, but it does nothing of the sort, just confirms her thoughts because Emma doesn't know, doesn't know what it's like to be looking in the mirror and not be able to recognize yourself, to have these painful doubts lingering in your aching head, betraying you, seducing you into the inevitable.

Chloe's eyes catch Lana's and the brunette smiles reassuring as well, understanding to the best of her ability. "It's okay," she tells Chloe, and the blonde knows she understands, knows she's the only one that can even begin to understand. She's the only one that can truly and honestly claim to know the bride, knew her long before her high society friends, with their money and presumptuous power. Lana knows what Chloe would never admit: that the reason she's marrying this man is because he's the next best thing, and Chloe knew, had learned the hard way, that sometimes life is just about compromise.

"I just," she speaks, shrugging out of Emma's grasp on her shoulders, side stepping the fake blonde, her voice foreign to her ears. "I just need space," Chloe sends them all her beautiful, yet shaky smile, "just a few moments."

They all abide, picking up their floor length gowns in elegant fistfuls, making sure they don't tear or taint the beautiful satin. Making sure they are the picture of perfection as well. But Lana, ever so faithful Lana, stays behind, waiting until the last bridesmaid is out of sight until fittingly, the maid of honor approaches the bride.

"It is okay," the brunette begins with her best smile, her hands tentatively gracing her friend's bare shoulders, meeting the bride's eyes tentatively in the mirror when Chloe doesn't shrug them away like she had moments before. "If you don't want to do this you don't have to, I'll understand, your father would have understood."

The last part is said just above a whisper, and the bride's eyes close instantly, taking a deep, calming, desperate breath. She recognizes the speech, recognizes the words because she gave it to the woman behind her herself on the day of the brunette's wedding. Only she hadn't needed it. Lana had never doubted her love for her husband, never thought that climbing out of the window and never looking back was even an option. No, Chloe knew that if there were such a thing as fate, God had created it just for Lana and Pete.

It's her father's face that floods her mind then, the distant image of him walking her down the aisle making her heart break slightly, making Lana's speech pointless because it should be coming from him. Her father should be the one telling her it was okay to be afraid. He should be the one telling her he'd take her away, that he'd make it okay just like he always promised.

Chloe wonders if her father knew of her betrayal, knew of the intimacy she shared with a man while she bore another's diamond around her finger. Wondered if he could still look at his little girl dressed and white and somehow not believe that she did this to herself. Chloe wondered what her father would say if he saw her there, desperate for something but not knowing what. Desperate for an amount of reassurance that no one could ever give her.

"Chloe?"

Lana turns around at the sound of a knock at the door, but Chloe remains in place, hands running over the silk satin fabric of the dress, eyes following the beaded bodice, the long train, the yards and yards of beautiful, expensive, elegant fabric.

"Five minutes," Lois says and Chloe's eyes snap up towards Lana's and then to her cousins.

"Just give me a moment," she tells them, eyes trailing down to her perfectly manicured fingers, to her left hand, to her fourth finger where a wedding ring would stay for all of eternity. Until death do they part because this is it, once it's done there's no going back, she knows that. Lana nods knowingly, shooing Lois out of the room before closing the door, leaving Chloe alone, in the rapidly constricting room, alone with her thoughts and demons all gathering in the deep, hidden walls of her heart.

"_What would you have me do?"_

The words ring in her mind, their meaning, their coldness, the picture they painted searing her, scarring her. She grips the fabric between her fingers tighter, crinkling it.

"_You want me to beg? Plead?"_

She remembers the lowly laugh, the pinning glare. _"Maybe you don't know me at all then." _

A shaky breath escapes her, and she brings a French manicured finger tips to her lips, her cheeks, trailing across them, trying to recognize the woman in white before her, but failing miserably. Her breath hitches to her throat and her eyes tear, burn as she closes them, willing, commanding herself not to cry.

"You look beautiful."

Her heart stops beating, it had to of, because all the air just rushes out of her, gasping as she turns, the dress swaying beautifully, painting the perfect picture save for the completely horrified look on what should have been a blushing bride's face. She says nothing, stares, jaw slack, slowly and painfully taking in a deep breath.

"What are you doing here?"

It's a harsh whisper, doesn't even sound like her own voice, but she doesn't care just watches as he shuts the door softly behind him, nearing her, a sad smirk on his lips. He reaches up a hand, his calloused fingertips trailing her cheek momentarily, just like she had done before, and she flinches, backs away, out of his grasp.

"What are you doing here?" She repeats, firmer this time, her voice managing to resemble her own.

"I needed to see you," he said, taking a step back, his usual mask of indifference dropped, hurt laced on his stony features. "Needed to explain-"

"Don't," she hissed, crossing her perfectly tanned, perfectly toned arms across the strapless bodice of her dress. "I've heard what you had to say, I don't want to hear it again," her words are harsh, and she glares, remaining the picture she should represent: offended bride to be, offended by a ridiculous intrusion. But on the inside, on the inside her heart was bursting, hope dwelled deep within in her, hoping that he'd come for her, her knight in shinning armor. She wants to laugh at the ridiculous thought, but she doesn't, doesn't do anything, doesn't move.

"_I will never be your prince Charming Chloe, I am who I am, I can't change that." _

"_I don't want you to change that." _

"_You do!" he yells, slamming his fist onto the desk in front of him, "You want me to be a part of this fantasy, you want me to sweep you off your feet and beg you to stay, beg you to be with me, I can't do that. It's not me and…" he pauses, looking at her, pleading her with eyes she refused to look at. "I can't make that decision for you." _

"You shouldn't be here."

Chloe watches as he takes a deep breath, stuffing fists into his expensive pants, shuffling his feet. She swallowed thickly as the movement reminded her of the man waiting for her, her future husband. "I needed you to know," he pauses, looking up, eyes searching her face, "I need you to know…"

He trials off and she just stares, stares at the elegant, fidgety, absolutely dreadfully beautiful mess he made, standing before her.

"Lex," she begins, voice hollow, already hearing the echo of Emma's heels down the marble hallway.

"I had this all planned out, every word, went over it and over it," he shook his head, voice sad, eyes sad, face sad. He was just sad, and her heart soared at the fact that after all these years she's finally gotten something from him besides cool indifference. Lex merely stared at her, took in the vision in white before him, closed his eyes for a fleeting second, wondering what it would be like for her to walk down _his_ aisle, to join _his _world. "I came here to beg, I came here for you Chloe."

She looked affronted, stared at him shaking her head in disgust. "I came to you," Chloe hisses, voice hushed, tone accusing, "Three weeks ago I came to you, I begged," she pointed a finger at herself, shoving his shoulder lightly with her free hand to get him to look at her instead of the floor. "And you do this, you come here and you do this five minutes before I'm suppose to get married?" A dry, condescending laugh escapes her lips, and the sound makes him shiver, take a step back.

She made him weak, but he was too desperate to do anything about it.

"I love you," he met her eyes, and reached for her, his hand landing on her arm. "I'm doing what you wanted, I'm begging, I'm pleading with you not to marry him…It's just a little late that's all."

She couldn't fathom when this happened, when he became a shell of the man she knew, when he learned how to beg, to plead. It wasn't about loving her, she wouldn't let herself foolishly believe that. It wasn't about her, it was about having what you couldn't have. She knew that, she knew that game all to well. She'd learned from the star player after all.

The smirk on his face irritates her beyond a point of return and she wants to smack it off his face.

Before she knows what she was doing the resounding smack echoes within the room, her hand burning as she drops it to her side, fingers clutching the fabric desperately as she watched him stumble, caught off guard.

"Why are you doing this?" she cried, her voice catching in her throat. "Why?"

"I love you."

"Saying that doesn't solve anything. You said it yourself, love is never the resounding factor, doesn't solve your problems. Nobody gets their happily after," she spat, stomping her foot childishly, because that's what he made her feel like: a child, a helpless, powerless child.

"I want to try," he whispers, nearing her now, closing the distance, hands cupping her face, forehead now against forehead.

"I can't," she whimpers, eyes closing trying to stop the tears that had already begun to fall. "Not now, it's too late."

His hands are tender, his breath mingling with hers, and she feels him, feels his presence invading her senses. Forbidden touches, whispered words, forgotten gestures all fill her mind, flooding her mind and she feels her hands fisting themselves in the sleeves of his jacket. The tears fall rapidly then, silently, graceful and beautiful just like her, and he brushes them away, tenderly with more love and devotion than he's ever showed her. With all the love and devotion he's ever wanted to show her.

"Chloe?"

She tries to move away but he doesn't let her, just closes his eyes and she knows he's ignoring Lois's voice, her pounding knocks.

"Chloe, come on," it's Emma's voice now, impatient and needy, "It's time."

Chloe's heart speeds up, breath caught in her throat and a sob escapes her, "Don't," Lex pleads his voice a harsh whisper. He shakes his head, his forehead still pressed harshly against hers.

Fingers reach up, trailing against his flushed cheeks, her palms cupping them tenderly. He turns his head, pressing a kiss into her palm and she hisses, as if physically wounded. She considers it for a moment, giving in, because this really should be enough, he's begging, and she knows it's a humiliating act he's never participated in before. He is a Luthor after all, but she can't, knows it, breaths it, that very breath turning her lungs to ice. "I can't," she shakes her head, moving out of his grasp, brushing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth before brushing pass him.

There's a pause at the door, he can feel it, but doesn't turn. He can't watch her walk away, towards an aisle where he wasn't waiting for her at the other end. Chloe brushes at the wetness on her cheeks, one hand on the knob of the door. Her voice is strong when she speaks, and he knows the tears are gone, knows she looked just as perfect as she did when he first saw her. A vision in white, a perfect vision in white. It broke his heart knowing it wasn't his.

"I always knew you would never be prince charming to my Cinderella," she chuckles, sadly, and he can feel the frown, and it breaks his heart all over again. "But I was okay with it."

The door is shut quickly behind her, and she takes the bouquet from Lois, smiling softly towards her cousin, catching Lana's avoidance, knowing that she was the one that let him back there. Breathing becomes harder and harder to do as she makes her way down the aisle, that god awful music playing in the background. Chloe tries to concentrate, step, pause, step again, pause again. But everyone is looking at her, staring, smiling, and she hears the hushed whispers, her eyes catches sight her groom, and she knows that she marrying a fantasy. She knows this is wrong, but she continues walking, the man she'd left in the room minutes earlier invading her thoughts, tainting her, leaving her branded.

A woman's heart is a magnificent thing. It's filled with secrets, and lies, hopes and dreams, caves and secret passages within it's fragile walls. It's filled with memories of past loves, ambitions. It's not the ring that binds husband and wife together, it is simply the woman's heart, because it is a beautiful thing, in all it's fragility, it is truly beautiful. It's where a woman's innermost thoughts lye, it's where her battles are chosen and lost. It's large, winding, a cavernous cave, but it only has room for one.

Chloe backs away when he reaches for her hand, shaking her head, tears building in her eyes. She shakes her head, as she meets his eyes desperately, the man before her, the good, beautiful man before her. A gasp penetrates throughout the cathedral and she can feel the anger rising within him, his annoyance with her desperation to explain. She cries then, not because she's sad, but because the hurt in his eyes scare her more than she expected. She watches him stalk off, the hundreds of people standing as he does so, staring, judging, watching her every move.

She shrugs Lana's arms away, ignores Emma's sputters of confusion. Doesn't notice the worried look Lois sends Clark only notice he wasn't there. She collapses onto the ground, the yards and yards of fabric spilling around her, creating a sea of glorious white.

A woman's heart is a magnificent thing, the gift a bride gives her husband on their wedding day.

She knew that, knew that's why she couldn't marry him.

Chloe Sullivan had already given her heart away.

© 2004


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